


The Letters Beneath Your Bed

by jiwoosone



Category: BLACKPINK (Band)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/F, why do i keep making myself cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-08 04:32:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17379620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiwoosone/pseuds/jiwoosone
Summary: “I’ve fallen in love with you a collection of three times.”The words, scrawled with that purple pen she always used, catch Jennie’s eye and forces her to pause.





	1. Chapter 1

Had the walls always been blue?

In the her mind’s eye, Jennie sees this room, sunlight streaming through the now dark windows, with its walls always yellow and bright and happy and smiling. And in the center, there’s girl that lived in it. She’s wearing the same old ragged clothes, and she’s got food on her face—she _always_ has food on her face. The girl whose eyes are large and sparkling, who’s constantly laughing, whose blond hair she had always thought matched the room around her.

But the walls are blue, and there is no laughing girl here.

 

* * *

 

 

There are clothes strewn all over the floor, on her desk, on her bed. Well, really, Jennie can’t tell if they’re her clothes or not. They had swapped clothes so many times it was hard to tell whose was whose. It was difficult to pinpoint where Jennie ended and she had started. Except now—

Jennie shakes her head, tightening her hold on the box she’s carrying. She’s been over this. The last two and a half months have been hell, but she’s moving on. She’s going to move on.

She sets her box down and gets to work. It has large black letters spelling out “GOODWILL” on the side in Sharpie. She picks up a sweater that’s old and gray and faded and puts it in. Where did she get this, again? Had it been her mother’s? Had Jennie worn this at one point in time? Had they gotten it together from that little shop that was now closed, the one they had gone to all the time in highschool, all those years ago? Jennie sits back, picking up the sweater with one hand. What does she even do with this stuff? A very small, very loud part of her is screaming to keep it, to put back where it came from because when she gets back she’ll be mad Jennie messed with her stuff. But Jennie knows if she doesn’t do this now, she’ll never have the strength to do it, and this room will stay like this: a sad exhibit of an absent girl, forever waiting for someone who would never come. So Jennie puts the sweater into her Goodwill box.

In no time, she’s gone through nearly half the room. All the clothes have been picked up off the floor. Jennie considered keeping some of them, but she knows she never could wear something that had been in this room. That had been on that floor. That had been touched by that girl.

The room looks smaller without the mess. Jennie’s gone through the nearly empty closet (most of it was in her room instead of hung), so now she was going through the garbage pile underneath her bed. There are discarded popsicle and Twix wrappers, bags from fast food restaurants, the occasional book, and, of course, the Shoe Box.

Jennie had seen the Shoe Box once before, when they had first been moving in. She had been putting it away underneath the bed, making it very clear it was off-limits.

“Listen, I don’t care if you go through my entire room,” she had said. “Just not this box, okay? It’s the one thing I want _no one_ seeing.”

Jennie hesitates before pulling it out. It’s just an old Nike box, no lock or anything. Should she open it? It had meant a lot to her, Jennie knows, but then again…

She’ll open it, she decides. She’ll open it, but she won’t look at anything. Just see if it’s...perishable. Or dangerous. Jennie wouldn’t put it past her to store possums in a shoe box under her bed. If not, she wouldn’t look, but she’ll throw it away. There’s no use in keeping it, she rationalizes.

Still, her hands shake and she squeezes her eyes shut as she lifts the lid. She pauses a second. Nothing leaps at her face, so she cracks open one eye.

A bundle of papers.

The only thing in the box are a bundle of papers on regular binder paper. There are dozens of them, all covered front to back. Jennie frowns. _Papers?_ She wanted to hide papers? She notices a sticky note that presumably had been stuck on the back of the lid, but had fallen onto the box floor. Jennie picks it up curiously and turns it to the side with writing.

_Letters To Jennie_

It almost doesn’t look like her writing. It had been written in beautiful, swooping cursive, totally unlike her usual chicken scratching, but it was her, Jennie can tell. She could always tell.

Jennie realizes she has been holding her breath and releases it. Letters to Jennie.

 _Letters to me,_ Jennie thinks. They were meant for her. She had written them for her, so wasn’t it okay if she read them, just a little bit?

 _No,_ the responsible voice in her head tells her. _She didn’t want you to see it, so just throw it away and move on. Just because she’s gone doesn’t mean you can’t afford her some privacy._

Jennie gathers the letters up into one pile and drags the trash can to her side.

 _“I’ve fallen in love with you a collection of three times.”_ The words, scrawled with that purple pen she always used, catch Jennie’s eye and forces her to pause. She reads the sentence one more time. _No,_ she thinks firmly. _You’re taking it out of context. Besides, it’s not your business._ Her hand hovers over the trash can.

The letters still end up in her lap. There’s a hot coal of guilt in the back of her throat, and the voice is still screaming at her to throw them away, but she picks the one on the top of the pile anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

Dear Jennie,

You’ll never see this. Or, at least, I hope you never will. That’s the plan. But I’m going to pretend you will, if I ever grow the balls to give this to you, or maybe you stumble upon them, or something, I don’t know. Anyways, I’m writing this because, well, you know I’ve got a huge mouth, right? So I’m totally going to tell someone this if I don’t tell you. You know, in letters you’re never going to read. And since you’re never going to read them (I would NEVER say these things to your face), just so you know, this is gonna be super greasy. Or cheesy, or cringey, or whatever you want to call it. So whatever, here goes nothing.

I’ve fallen in love with you a collection of three times. Not that I’ve ever fallen out of love with you—or maybe I have. I don’t know. But I have fallen in love with you, as far as I remember, three separate times. Once in middle school, and twice in high school. Maybe that surprises you. Does that surprise you? Or have you always known? I mean, I guess I haven’t been exactly subtle about it, but you’re also the most oblivious person I’ve ever met, so you might be totally blindsided by this. But, yeah. I’m in love with you.

The first time I realized it we were in seventh grade. You remember Ms. Park? The one that hated me. She was scolding me for doing some assignment wrong in front of the whole class. And she started getting really personal and said that I was too preoccupied with wearing skimpy clothes to focus on school and I started crying, and you stood up and started yelling at her. You really tore her a new one, huh? You even got her fired a week later. And I watched you. I even told you not to talk to the principal because you might get in trouble, but all you did was glare at me and say, “You’re worth way more than a couple days’ suspension.” And I realized you had always been doing this for me: sacrificing yourself for me, always going out of your way for me. And in that moment I remembered all the times you had done so many things for me, and I knew. It had been building up for a while before that, I think. But it took you saying that for everything to come flooding out of me. Literally, I started bawling in the hallway, remember?

I brushed over it then. I mean, at that moment, I knew what I felt for you, but I couldn’t put it into words. You were you, and I was me, and I felt what I always felt, but it was the first time I confronted myself about it. Maybe it scared me. I was twelve, and the way I loved you scared me. I think it still kinda does. But anyway, back then I didn’t know how to articulate what I was feeling, so I just set it aside. I forgot about it. Well, not forgot. But I pushed it down, and it just built inside me until I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Which, of course, brings me to the second time. The second time was not as dramatic, and I didn’t start crying or anything. It was when we were sophomores; we were at your place, and I was sleeping over because my parents were on a trip and I was scared of being alone, but I didn’t want to admit it. And we were binge watching The Office because it’s a masterpiece of modern television when you fell asleep on my shoulder. Which is literally the most cliche thing ever, but, you know. It’s me. I’m a sucker for those things. Anyways, I was watching you sleep, and it was Jim and Pam’s wedding, and I flashed back to that one scene of them, the one where Pam falls asleep on his shoulder. You know the one. And I couldn’t see my face, but I knew I looked something like him. And I knew what I felt for you was what he had felt for her. So I figured.

Like I said, it wasn’t that dramatic. The third time was, though.

Senior prom Choi Youngjae asked you out and you said yes. He was your second boyfriend after Jeon Wonwoo in fourth grade, and your first boyfriend since I realized I was in love with you.

I was...weird, I guess. I know what you’re thinking: I was completely psycho. And yeah, I may have yelled at him a little. And you. I’m not really sure what I was thinking, actually. But I’ve already apologized for that, so I won’t. I suppose that before you two started dating, I didn’t think I would ever love you more than in passing. What I mean is that I would never love you in a way that would be reciprocated; never in a way that would result in my acting upon my feelings.

And then that smiley idiot showed up and I blew a gasket. Which is hardly my fault, when you think about it. We could all see how he was eyeing Im Jaebum anyways. It wouldn’t have worked out, so, really, I was helping you! Okay, that’s not true. I just didn’t like him. Well, it’s not that I didn’t like him. I just didn’t like him next to you. But again, the kid was totally leading you on!

We had our first fight over him. I always hated that: the fact our first fight was over some guy. But you can’t change it, so whatever. I said that he was a dumb idiot and you were deluding yourself into a relationship with him, and you understandably stopped talking to me, and eventually I realized I was being a gigantic asshole and apologized. And you ended up going to prom with Choi Youngjae, and I went with Kim Yugyeom. He was nice, I guess, but I was sort of paying attention to you, too. Oh, right! I totally forgot to say how Yugyeom played into it, too! At around the same Youngjae asked you to prom, so did Yugyeom and Jeon Jungkook with me. And you kept squealing about how lucky I was, and how everyone was asking me out, but all I could think about was how much I wanted you. So I was even more down than usual when you told me about Youngjae. Who, by the way, forgot to tell you, is actually engaged to Jaebum now. I follow them on Facebook.

But this isn’t about them; it’s about us. About you, more like. I figured this would be a good place to start for my very first letter to you. Because I know I’ll write more in the future, because I love you too much for it to be contained to one.

So until then,

Lisa

 

* * *

 

 

The letter is blurry when Jennie sets it down. There are tears in her eyes, she realizes with a start, and quickly wipes them away with her sleeve.

How is she supposed to react to that?

A strange, strangled laugh bubbles up in her throat and pushes past her lips. Of course she was finding these now. Of course she was finding out now. She’s doubled over laughing now, bending into the shoe box that smells old and dusty. The back of her eyes start to burn and she’s crying again, tears spilling onto her cheeks and into the empty box. Choked sounds come out of her mouth, sounding like half sobbing, half laughter. She stays like that until she gets her breathing under control. She sits up and brushed the hair out of her eyes. She’s always like this, Jennie thinks; she feels in sudden, intense bursts of emotion that go as quickly as they come and leave her feeling empty and drained, like how she feels now. She looks to her side, where she had set down the letters.

She wrote the way she spoke, Jennie notices as she picks up the bundle again. In short, awkward fragments of sentences, straight to the point, clumsy, but always with sincerity.

Her eyes drift to the beginning of the letter, the question she’d asked: _Have you always known?_ Had she always known? Jennie snorted. If she had known, she wouldn’t be here right now. If she’d known, none of this would be happening right now.

But that wasn’t true, was it? Because she had. She had known, and it made it all so much worse. She can’t pretend she didn’t notice the way Lisa had looked at her each time she walked into a room, can’t pretend she didn’t hear the shift in her voice when she talked to her. She had known Lisa had loved her, and now she’s gone.

There’s another surge of emotion coming up the back of her throat, so she quickly swallows it and picks up another letter. She’s already read one, so it can’t hurt to read another, right?

 

* * *

 

 

Dear Jennie,

Today you came out to me as bi. We were at a cafe near campus and you just said it. After a while, I mean. You kinda stumbled around, and then ended up saying “You know...guys...girls…” for several minutes before saying what you actually meant. It was kinda cute, actually. I didn’t exactly come out to you, but I kinda implied that I’d had feelings like that before, so I’m pretty sure you got it.

To be honest, I’m not sure what I am. I’m in love with a girl, so I’m gay or bi or pan or something. But I don’t remember there ever being a time when part of me wasn’t a part of you, so I also don’t remember liking anyone else.

Well, I suppose that’s not true. Back in kindergarten I was kinda obsessed with this guy Lee Dongmin. He was seriously pretty, man. Like, super model pretty, even as a four-year-old. I used to follow him around everywhere before he moved just before we went into first grade. Did I like him? Maybe I did, or maybe I just admired him. I’m not sure. Besides, it doesn’t matter. I’m doomed to love you for the rest of my life, anyway, so labeling myself doesn’t really make a difference in any case.

But you’re bi. Which means that you could possibly like me? Maybe not now. But eventually. Everyone knows if you’re around someone long enough their traits rub off on you, so maybe if I love you enough some of it will be reflected back in you.

That’s ridiculous. Ignore that. If you love me, someday in the future, it won’t be because of my decisions. It will be because of yours.

Here’s to you loving me,

Lisa

 

* * *

 

 

The second letter is shorter than the first. As she flips through them, Jennie can see that they’re all pretty short, averaging half a page to a page in length. She shuffles through the papers and picks another one at random.

 

* * *

 

 

Dear Jennie,

It’s winter. I’m still in love with you.

It’s been two weeks since we moved in together. We don’t have enough money to pay for the heating, so it’s freezing in here. You ask to cuddle a lot for warmth, which activates the ultra gay side of me and makes it real hard to breathe. But I’m dealing, so it’s cool. There’s not much to do about it but deal, anyways.

There are boxes everywhere, because you packed up pretty much everything from your mom’s house, but you still don’t want to unpack anything. You always hated unpacking. And packing. And any to do with organizational skills.

Kim Dongyoung broke up with you recently. You say it was mutual, but I’m pretty sure it’s not. You’ve been binging Sex and the City, which is your dumped show. When it’s mutual you typically dive right into How I Met Your Mother. (By the way, I know your I-dumped-him show is Gossip Girl. You try to hide it but I can hear you listening under your covers on your phone.)

Your guys’ relationship has been weird the last couple weeks. Has he been ghosting you? I think he has. You keep checking your phone these days. Two days ago you went over to his place and came back crying, so I put two and two together. Also, he just kinda seems like the type.

I never know how to cheer you up when you’re like this. I just make sure there’s still Cherry Garcia in the fridge and stay out of your way, mostly. I wish I didn’t have to. I want to hug you and make you feel better and make you hot cocoa and kiss your nose. But that’s not who I am for you. I keep having to remind myself of that: that I’m not someone like that for you. That you shouldn’t be someone like that for me.

I remember when you first came out. I had this crazy idea that you might eventually love me. I’ve mostly given up on that now. Instead, I’m there for you, completely. Even if you’re not for me.

I hope you feel better,

Lisa

 

* * *

 

Jennie feels sick. Oh god, she’s really gonna puke. She reaches out blindly and pulls the trash can towards her. And then she’s spilling her guts into the trash and her eyesight is blurry and her ears are ringing and she’s digging her fingernails into her palms so hard she’s pretty sure she’s breaking the skin and then she’s just dry heaving into the garbage because she hasn’t eaten nearly anything in a month and a half.

She needs to stop, she thinks, but her hands find the next letter anyway—the last one, Jennie notices. The final one. The very last one she wrote.

 

* * *

 

 

Dear Jennie,

Today you told me that you’ve gotten your very first girlfriend. Her name is Kim Jisoo, and she’s older than us a couple years. You say she’s pretty, but I haven’t met her yet. To be honest, I don’t know if I want to. Everyone else you’ve dated have been guys, and I’ve been able to deal with it. I’m not sure why, but you dating a girl is worse somehow. Maybe I convinced myself the only reason you weren’t dating me is because you wouldn’t date someone like me. That you wouldn’t date a girl. But I was wrong, obviously. And I don’t know, Jennie. I’m just really tired.

Lisa

 

* * *

 

 

Jennie’s hands are shaking. In fact, her entire being is vibrating. She should calm down. She runs her fingers through her hair and returns to the letters. There must be dozens here. She flips through them faster now, the words all but a blur on the pages. Some of them are only a couple sentences _(Dear Jennie: Today your hair fell in your eyes and I wanted to push it out of the way and stare at your eyes. They’re beautiful, Lisa.)_ And others are pages long, sentences spinning in her eyes. _(Love is tricky and beautiful, and so are you.)_ As she finishes a letter detailing the time she and Lisa went on a road trip for a couple months, a memory flashes in her mind.

She shoots up from where she’s sitting and stumbles into her room, racking her brain for where she had put it. When she had gotten it, Jennie knew she was never going to read it. She was never going to have the strength. But after finding the Shoe Box...she takes a shaky breath. She needs it.

She finds it underneath a Donald Duck sweater in her drawer, tucked away. Like she had wanted to forget it. Maybe she did. She pulls the folded paper out and unfolds it carefully. She hasn’t read it yet—hasn’t even thought about it since then. She takes a deep breath and prepares herself.

 

* * *

 

 

Dear Jennie,

I’m dying. I’m writing this in on the side of the road right now. I managed to pulled myself out of the car and crawl over here, and I’m waiting for the ambulance, but I’m pretty far out into the country, so I’m not sure when they’re going to get here. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m going to die.

I’m not sure when you’re going to read this. Maybe you never will. That’s always a possibility with you. And I’m sorry I’m writing this as I’m dying. I’m sorry it took me so long. But I love you, Jennie Kim. I love you, so, so much, and I’m never going to be able to tell you in person, so please pay attention.

I’ve written letters to you before. They’re in my shoe box under my bed. Just so you know, you can totally read them. I don’t blame you. There’s everything I have ever felt for you in those pages, all the dramatic gestures and the small glances, and every single time I have fallen for your eyes.

Oh my god, I’m actually going to die. But that’s fine. I'm fine. The universe is billions of years old, Jennie. Our atoms traveled light years upon light years to form us, here on earth. We are the essence of stars. We burn and love and dance, and then we implode. We go out in supernovas; our deaths rock the heavens. And even hundreds of years after we no longer exist our light still shines in the sky. So it’s kind of pretty when you think about it like that.

But, jeez, I’m on my deathbed, and I’m writing to a girl who doesn’t love me back. I wish I could do this properly. I wish I knew how to say goodbye, with finality, with something memorable, but the truth is it’s always been you. There is nothing special about me. I’m average at pretty much whatever I do. But you have always been there, and you have always been what was extraordinary about me. You are laughter and pain and love and sorrow, and you are not just my love. You’re my everything. That line sounds overplayed, but believe me when I mean it. You are everything I hate about myself; you are everything I love. And I guess this is goodbye.

 

* * *

 

 

The note is unfinished.

Jennie slowly lowers it. Her hands aren’t shaking anymore. She doesn’t feel a wave of nausea hit her.

Lisa had loved her, and she’d ignored it. And now, when Lisa was gone, did she only know for sure that she felt the same. Hadn’t she always felt the same? Hadn’t it always been them? Hadn’t it always been that way?

Jennie slumps to the floor. It isn’t violent, or sudden, like most of the things she feels, but Jennie knows what she has to do. Holding her face gently in her hands, the letter fluttering to the floor and her heart grated and bleeding, Jennie begins to cry.

And when she stopped, she would go back to the blue room, and she would finish packing her things.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another version of The Letters Beneath Your Bed, as requested, complete with nose kisses and sunsets.

In the end, it’s the couch pillows that finally sets Lisa off. She came in to the living room, took one look at the couch, and promptly lost her fucking mind.

“She’s taken it too far, Jennie!”

Jennie sighs angrily. “God, Lisa, it’s not that big of a deal! It’s some stupid pillows!”

Lisa’s face starts turning redder as her voice climbs higher and higher. “It’s not about the pillows!” She screams. “She’s taking over the entire place! She leaves her things everywhere; she messes with my stuff, she never cleans up after herself!”

“Oh my god!” Jennie throws her hands up in the air. “You never cared when you did it! You’re at least three times as messy as Jisoo is, and you never seem to mind!”

“It’s different! I know where my shit is, but this just messes up my entire system!”

“God, why are you so weird about her?”

“You  _ know _ why I’m weird about her!” Were those tears in her eyes?

“No, I don’t! And frankly, I don’t care! Ugh, you’ve always been so annoying! You never want to go to parties, so I stay with you. I held your hand through your entire life! I skipped out on dates and friendships and opportunities for you, and this is how you repay me! And you know what? I don’t even know why I do it! You’re clingy and weird and a horrible friend! I’m embarrassed to be friends with you!”

Silence. Jennie knows immediately she’s gone too far.

Lisa straightens, all emotion from her draining away. “Okay,” she says coolly. “If that’s what you want.”

And then she’s gone.

Several seconds later, however, she comes storming back in. “You know what? I’m tired of you pretending you don’t know. I’m so  _ sick  _ of you ignoring my feelings. At this point, I don’t give a shit if you don’t feel the same, but you don’t even try to confront it! You’re perfectly contect just pretending they don’t exist because it’s easier for you. You’re a fucking coward, Jennie Kim. That’s what you are now.”

She ignores Jennie’s indignant comments and heads straight for her room. She emerges holding the Shoe Box and slams it down on the coffee table. “Here,” she spits. “I was going to show you this one day. Might as well be now.”

“What the hell is this supposed to mean?” Jennie starts to ask, but Lisa is already out the door. Besides, she knows what it means.

It means she’s not coming back.

***

When she’s done with the letters Jennie’s not sure what to do. Cry? Laugh? Both? Her mind is flitting between Jisoo and Lisa, Lisa and Jisoo and back again.

Jisoo is nice, Jennie supposes. And pretty. Jisoo is  _ really _ pretty. So pretty Jennie sometimes forgets how to breathe around her. In fact, she’s always been nervous around Jisoo, always eager to impress with her. She never knows what to do around her; there’s always a thrill in the pit of her stomach when she’s with her.

It’s different with Lisa. Lisa makes her feel comfortable, safe, warm. Being with her is natural. It’s just how it’s supposed to be. Does that mean she loves her? But isn’t that what friends are for? For being comfortable around? Where do you draw the line between the sort of love between friends and romantic love?

Suddenly Jennie is very, very tired. She glances at the clock. It’s 10—she’s been sitting on the floor of her living room for hours now. She looks over at the door. And Lisa is still not home.

But she’ll  _ be _ home, Jennie thinks. She’ll be home, and we can talk about this shit all she wants, but first she just has to come home.

Jennie waits on the floor in front of the coffee table until the sun is well up the next day.

The following days she barely moves. She barely eats. She doesn’t sleep at all. Lisa isn’t answering her phone, though her brother implied she was staying with him for the time being when Jennie called.

Then the doorbell is ringing, and before she knows it Jisoo is in the room.

“Jennie, hey—” She stops when she notices the letters on the floor and the bags under her eyes. A sympathetic look flits across her face. “Is it Lisa? I heard she left.”

Jennie remains quiet, and Jisoo seems to understand. She gets down next to her. “You love her, don’t you?” She asks in a soft voice.

Jennie’s head whips to her.

She takes a deep breath and turns to face her. “I like you, Jennie. I really do. But if you want me to be honest?” She cups Jennie’s cheek and gently faces her eyes toward hers. “I knew I had no chance the moment I saw the way you look at each other.”

“I—I’m—How do I look at her?”

Jisoo chuckles a little and leans her forehead against Jennie’s. “You look at her like she’s home.”

And Jennie does what she’s wanted to do for the past five days—what she’s wanted to do for the past couple years or so. She sobs.

Jisoo holds her until it subsides rubbing circles into her back. “You fucked up, didn’t you?”

The question makes Jennie want to burst into a fresh rounds of tears, but she reigns it in and nods. “Big time,” she croaks.

“Then go get her.” Jisoo is smiling, but there is sorrow around her eyes. And then she brings Jennie’s mouth to hers. The kiss is soft and slow; Jennie can taste the salt of her own tears on Jisoo’s lips. “Goodbye, Jennie.” She pulls her up and pushes her out the door before Jennie can even say anything.

She touches her lips for a moment and looks back at her apartment door. Then she walks down her stairs and into the street below.

It’s raining. Not hard, but it’s lightly drizzling. Humid enough to make her hair stick out in odd places. She’s sort of in a trance as she drives to Bambam’s place. The roads look odd. Nothing about her surroundings has been exactly the same since Lisa left.

When Jennie rings the doorbell, the last person on the face of the earth she expects to answer it does.

_ “Kim Yugyeom?” _ It’s Lisa’s date, from senior prom. Why the fuck is  _ he _ here?

He blinks. “Oh, Jennie. Hey.”

“I—what—wh—what are you doing here?” She stutters out her question.

“Oh, uh…” He looks over his shoulder at Bambam, who’s now approaching the door. “I’m kind of his boyfriend now.”

“Boy—” Jennie feels lightheaded.

“What are you doing here, Jennie?” Bambam seems mad. He should be.

She sighs deeply. “Can I please just talk to her?”

Bambam frowns. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Bam, you know me. And I know I fucked up. Can I please at least have a chance to make it right?” Noticing the still doubtful expression on his face, she adds, “Please? Bambam, please. You know how much she means to me.”

He scowls at the floor for a couple seconds before looking up at her. “You really hurt her.”

Jennie’s heart sinks. “I know.”

He breathes in heavily through his nostrils. “But,” he says, and Jennie looks up at him hopefully, “I suppose she also hurt you.” He crosses his arms. “Three minutes,” he says finally. “You get three minutes. Not a second more. And if you hurt her again, I swear to god I’ll sic Yugyeom on you.”

Jennie looks up at Yugyeom, who looks very awkward but also very muscular and nods. “Got it.”

She’s in Bambam’s bedroom, scrolling on her phone when Jennie comes in. “Oh, Bam, is the pizza here? You got the one I asked for, right? The one with...” Her voice trails off when she sees who has come in. “Jennie?” There is no malice. Just confusion.

“Hey. Can I come in?”

Lisa nods, and Jennie softly shuts the door behind her with a click and sits on the edge of the bed. “Look, I—”

Lisa holds up her hand. “Save it,” she says. “I know what you’re going to say. And it’s okay, Jennie. I know you’re with Jisoo now, and I know you never tried to hurt me. It’s my fault for holding on so long. I’m sorry I made you carry the burden of my feelings. I’m sorry for being jealous and petty, I really am.”

The back of Jennie’s eyes burn. “That’s not the point!” She yells, and Lisa looks up at her, startled. “You were right, okay? You were right about everything! I never tried to talk to you about your feelings. I always knew you liked me, and I ignored it because I didn’t know how to deal with it. At first, because I didn’t like you back. But now—” She drags the heel of her palm along her face and grits her teeth. “Now, I think it’s because I like you—I love you too much. And I don’t know what to do with what I feel.” Jisoo’s words echo in her head.  _ You look at her like she’s home. _ “You’re my home, Lisa. You always have been.”

Lisa looks as though she’s holding back tears. “We both are dumbasses, aren’t we?”

Jennie laughs and scoots towards her. “Yeah, I think we are.”

The kiss starts off gentle, Lisa leaning into Jennie little by little. As they go on, however, it morphs into something hungrier, more desperate. Lisa pulls her fingers through Jennie’s hair as she wraps her arms around Lisa’s neck.

“Lisa, Jennie, are you guys do—”

Shit! Bambam! Jennie had totally forgotten there were two other people in the apartment. She turns to him with a sheepish smile. “Hey, Bambam…”

A small smile grows on his face, eventually becoming an all out evil smirk. “Okay, well, when you guys are done, the pizza is here.” He closes the bedroom door. Jennie looks over at Lisa, whose face is as red as she’s ever seen it. She laughs, leans over and kisses Lisa’s nose. “You wanna get some?”

Lisa shakes her head. “Jisoo,” she mutters.

“What?”

“Jisoo,” she says again. “What about Jisoo? Oh god, this isn’t right. This really isn’t right.”

Jennie laughs again and takes Lisa’s hand. “I actually broke up with her a couple hours ago.”

“Oh.”

“Now, do you wanna get some pizza? Because I haven’t eaten in like, three days.”

Lisa thinks for a second. “Actually, this place has a pretty amazing view. Do you wanna head up to the roof?”

“As long as I get pizza.”

When they climb up to the roof, Jennie discovers Lisa really wasn’t lying. The rain has stopped now, and the sky is painted in orange and red hues, illuminating the silhouettes of the buildings below them. “It’s beautiful,” Jennie breathes.

“So are you,” Lisa replies, as if it’s nothing.

Blushing, Jennie motions for Lisa to sit with her near the edge. Her breath steams in the air as she pulls a blanket around the both of them. Lisa’s face is shining in the sunset, eyes sparkling as she looks over the city.

Jennie truly doesn’t know how she didn’t realize her best friend was this breathtaking.

She leans towards her and kisses the top of her nose again. Lisa’s nose is really pretty, she decides. Just like her. Just like us.

Lisa looks over at Jennie and draws her closer, both of them giggling as they intertwine their fingers, Lisa leaning her head onto Jennie’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Lisa says. “I love you. For as long as I can remember, I have.”

Jennie kisses the top of her head. “And I will love you until no one remembers us.”

They stay like that until the golden sun finally sinks below the horizon.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this in my drafts for a while so I decided to post it ig,,,also i keep writing angst but literally all i read is fluff???


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